


The Dragon of Apocrytha

by SnowElfDragon95



Series: Isilmé of the Snow [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Dragonborn DLC (Elder Scrolls), F/M, Other, Post-Skyrim Main Quest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowElfDragon95/pseuds/SnowElfDragon95
Summary: In the past three years, Isilmé accomplished the impossible. She became the Harbinger of the Companions. She defeated the threat of Alduin the World Eater, she ended the Civil War that tore through her home by uniting them against their common foe. Now, she has a new challenge to face, however there is something oddly familiar about this foe and does he still remember her?
Relationships: Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Cicero/Male Listener (Elder Scrolls), Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Miraak, Hircine (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Miraak (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Isilmé of the Snow [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673596
Kudos: 15





	1. I Know Those Eyes...

_4th Era. Year: 387. Month: 4th of Mid-Year._

_It had been over three years since, Khyeena had left for Alik’r. Usaeleí was busy dealing with Neloth for his daily ‘prodding’ much to the poor Argonian’s irritation. Isilmé, age sixteen, had just finished her work at the forge with Glover Mallory who told her she would have tomorrow off. She smiled brightly. Tomorrow would be her name day. True, in technicality, her name day was on that of Hircine’s Summoning day but she didn’t let it affect her. It was going to be a good day. She just knew it. She gathered her bone bow and quiver and waved farewell to Glover who just grunted in playful grumpiness. The pale elf hummed while she trudged through the mixture of snow and ash of Solsthiem and turned her head up to the sky. Tiny flecks of snow fluttered around her as she marched towards the large mushroom tower outside of the town of Raven Rock. Even from where she stood, she could hear Usaeleí cursing at the Telvanni wizard as he took one of his scales from his tail._

_“Hold still, you insufferable adolescence lizard!” The old Dark Elf snapped, as he continued his work. The pale Argonian hissed irritably but relaxed when he saw his friend levitating to the top floor._

_“Okay,” The wizard grumbled as he patched up Usaeleí’s tail. “You’re done for today. Go on. Out! Both of you! I have work to do!”_

_All too eager to leave, the Argonian practically leapt down the top floor as the levitating magic lowered him down with care. Isilmé followed in tow. Once the two were outside, they made their way to their home in an old shack tucked away near a village of Rieklings. The blue goblins chattered and grumbled happily at their guests. Usaeleí and Isilmé had met them by accident while trying to make shelter and were surprised that their chief allowed them be their neighbors, often sharing meals and trading shining trinkets for extra food. They even learned their language. Okay, rather Isilmé learned their language, Usaeleí chuckled to himself. While he prepped their meal for the night, Isilmé excused herself so she could collect more fire wood._

_She inhaled deeply, the cold air stinging her lungs just slightly. She gathered the hatchet and made her way to her favorite logging spot. There was an old log that had fallen from old age and Isilmé had been harvesting from the old pine for the past seven months. She strapped the kindling to her back and proceeded back to the Riekling homestead._

_Fwhump!_

_She stopped and turned around. She had heard something fall into the snow behind her and from the sound of it, she didn’t believe it was pinecone. Too heavy to be a pinecone, but too light to be a rock or a heavy branch. She backtracked until she came across a large crater of snow and tilted her head to the side. “A book?” She wondered aloud and knelt down to pick it up. Lifting the large parcel with her small hands, she continued back to the camp while tracing her fingers along the binding. Heavy leather, black in color, and there was a strange sort of emblem on the front face of the book. Yet it had no title. Stranger still, was that there was a strange yet alluring energy vibrating beneath her palms, radiating from the book. She handed the kindling to her friend absentmindedly and she sat down in a corner at the back of the building._

_Sitting cross-legged, she propped the book into her lap. Isilmé had always loved books. Her grandfather figure, gods rest his soul, had given her a plethora of books to read from when she was a child and like a fish to water, dove right in. She closed her purple eyes fondly. The soft rumbling of his voice as he’d regale to her stories of the Ancient Ones. His calloused, sword worn hands running through her long hair. Gods, she missed him. She opened her eyes and gazed down at the book in her lap. She ran her fingers along the pages. Coarse, stiff. It hadn’t been read in a long while. She still had time before supper. She could read a little. After all, there was no harm in reading a book. Right?_

_Wrong._

_Just as she opened the black book, black tendrils sprung from its pages, writhing and spiraling around her small frame. The tendrils were oily, like ink and were just as smelly and sticky. She found herself being sucked into the book, the words spiraling around her. Down and down and down, she fell until she found that she had landed on something. Or rather someone who groaned in pain from the unexpected weight that sat on them. The young elf scrambled off whoever she fell on and offered her hand to help the person up only to have her hand swatted away angrily. She was met with an unusually tall man whose face was hidden by a golden mask. She cocked her head this way and that. The mask resembled the tendrils that yanked her within the book and she watched as the man tilted his head to the side as well, mirroring her. She faintly saw his eyes behind those narrow slits. They were a mixture of gold and blue with a tint of blood red. They were..._

_The words left her lips before she could stop them. “Beautiful…”_


	2. Tinvaak and a Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constantly being hunted by these strange cultists, Isilmé returns to the Throat of the World for guidance from Paarthurnax. His information has her head to Bromjuunar to seek out the spirit of the long dead Dragon Priest: Morokei.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter still being developed

Her vision fades as the sounds of her Shield-Siblings rousing from last night’s slumber pulled her from her dreams. The Daughter of the Hunt grumbled slightly as she rolled her shoulders to alleviate the stiffness from them and turned her gaze to her display cases and rose from her chair. She had accomplished much in the last three years. She became Harbinger of the legendary warriors of Jorrvaskr. Two years ago, she defeated the black dragon, Alduin the World Eater with the aid of her childhood friends, Usaeleí of the Shadowscales and Khyeena of the Thieves Guild. Less than a year ago, she helped end the Civil War aiding Ulfric Stormcloak in his cause to free their home along with the Empire far from the claws of the Thalmor. Throughout this short time, Ulfric Stormcloak was now High King with his love Rikke, whom Isilmé helped in rekindling their old fire. One would think her job as Dragonborn would be over. She was wrong. Recently, she had been attacked by strange cultists claiming her to be a ‘false' Dragonborn. She unrolled the piece of parchment and reread the contents:

" _Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Isilmé of the Snow before she reaches Solstheim._

 _Return with word of your success and Miraak shall be most pleased._ ”

She scratched her head intently. The name sounded very familiar but for some reason she couldn’t remember where she heard it nor how she knew it. Still she felt her dragon stirring whenever she read the name Miraak. Strange... I feel like I know this name... She glanced upwards at the ceiling, her elegant features furrowing into a frown. Stranger still, every time she thought she found the memory, it would dance just out of reach. She combed her fingers through her now long white mane then began to braid it.

 _Perhaps Paarthurnax or Odahviing might know who this stranger is or was._ She donned a heavy furred tunic and leather leggings as she heard her family complain about the weather being colder than usual then she strapped her swords, _Dawnbreaker_ and _Dragonbane_. She greeted her siblings who chattered amongst themselves and she snatched a sweetroll from the twins. “Where you off to, Harbinger?” Farkas questioned ducking from his brother’s grasp. She hummed at the title. Years ago, she would have corrected him but now the title suited her. “I’m going to talk with Paarthurnax about this Miraak fellow. These cultists are really starting to irritate me.”

“Are you going to summon your pet?”

The _pet_ the brawny Nord was referencing in a teasing manner was none other than the icy blue and white Frost dragon, Odahviing whom Isilmé had won the respect and servitude from prior to defeating Alduin. She huffed a laugh. “Yes. I’m going to ask my _fahdon_ for a ride to the mountain.” She clarified as she never considered the dragons pets or servants but friends and family. Not wanting to miss the sight, the Companions followed the Dragonborn to the courtyard and nearly stumbled over when she used her Thu’um. A few seconds later, the entire city heard the roar of the mighty Odahviing and soon the massive white creature rapidly approached the courtyard before perching himself on the wall before the Dragonborn. The city of Whiterun was abuzz with excitement as they too rushed to meet the fellow ally of the Dragonborn. 

“ **Drem Yol Lok, brit Grohiik. You called for me?** ” The mighty dragon rumbled softly as he lowered his head to her level. He made a happy growl when the Falmer gently scratched under his chin.

“I did. I hope you don’t mind _fahdon_ , but I need to speak with you and the Master at High Hrothgar. It’s urgent.” 

Odahviing nodded his head and extended a wing down for her to use as a ramp up the wall on to his back. Isilmé bade her Companions farewell then held on tightly as the massive creature pushed himself off the wall and took flight soaring upwards into the cloud filled sky above. She gave a tired sigh which did not go unnoticed from the dragon. He spared a glance at her however she patted his neck reassuringly. She would explain everything once they were at the Throat of the World. There were several other dragons roosting on the mountaintop along with Paarthurnax and they all lifted their heads towards the direction of Odahviing as the white dragon roared, announcing their arrival. The others rumbled excitedly as the Dragonborn slid down from Odahviing’s back and waved at the old dragon. 

“ **Ah, Dragonborn. I thought it was you calling when Odahviing left in a hurry. What brings you here? I sense purpose in your visit.** ” Paarthurnax commented as he shifted down to her level alongside Odahviing. The Falmer nodded gravely as she produced the note. She explained to the old one that for some reason this cult claims she is a false Dragonborn. The other dragons took turns to glance at one another but they seemed just as baffled. That was until she mentioned the name Miraak. The other dragons seemed to recoil or even snarl at the mention of the name. They sounded terrified. Paarthurnax opened his maw, a soothing song resonating from his throat calming his brethren before he turned his old gaze upon Isilmé. His voice became very dark and melancholy. Odahviing was grinding his fangs anxiously.

“ **He lives?!** ” Odahviing growled, his talons digging into the snow and ice beneath him. Isilmé cleared her throat softly as the old dragon and his brethren turned their attention back to her. 

“ **You must understand Dovahkiin, Miraak is not someone we dov wish to remember.** ” Paarthurnax informed gravely, his opaque eyes closing slowly. A low growl rumbled within his throat before he opened them once more. “ **For you though, what little we can give we will. Miraak was or rather is the First Dragonborn. Long ago, during the twilight years of the Dragon Cults, the Traitor, prideful and arrogant, sought to overthrow us. As I understand there are two others who can give you more knowledge.** ”

“Who?”

“ **The Dragon Priests known as Morokei and Vahlok.** ” Answered the old dragon who turned his head to left as though to overlook past Whiterun. He informed her that Morokei resided as the guardian of Bromjuunar in Labrythian then he turned his gaze towards Windhelm. He then added that Vahlok resided on the island of Solsthiem. _Wait a second though,_ Isilmé thought as her master finished explaining, _the Dragon Cult has long since been dead nearly four thousand years ago..._ Paarthurnax and the other others nodded when she mentioned this information. 

“ **Geh... The Priests’ mortal bodies are long deceased, but their souls will heed your call. Journey to Bromjuunar first, speak with Morokei. Odahviing will assist you**.” Paarthurnax instructed Isilmé as the Falmer quickly climbed back on to her Call Dragon’s back and with a mighty roar, the Frost dragon took to the skies. 

Once they were far enough from the mountain, Odahviing rumbled softly to Dragonborn. She lifted her head, silvery hair flowing in the wind around them. The dragon was no fool. There was something else on her mind. “Saw right through me huh?” she questioned, “I think I’ve met Miraak before.” Odahviing’s great wings flapped loudly as he glided through the clouds listening to her continue. “Did I ever mention before that I lived on Solsthiem when I was child?” The Dragon shook his head slowly. _Niid, she did not_ He thought to himself. His deep blue eyes scanned the ground below as she told the tale of her experience on the island. He rumbled softly his eyes squinting in confusion. If she was trapped, how did she escape? When she mentioned that she believed it was Miraak who helped her, Odahviing nearly plummeted in shock. Still he continued on not certain how to answer.

Soon, the two finally arrived at Bromjuunar and as the dragon landed before the main building, they quickly discovered that they weren’t alone. A khajiit was rummaging through her pack when her ears perked up in alarm but upon seeing who was on the dragon sighed in relief. After Odahviing landed, Isilmé blinked in surprise and delight. It was Khyeena! The midnight-colored Khajiit approached them in excitement. Odahviig watched in silence as the two women hugged each other tightly and before they got lost in conversation, he nudged the Dragonborn and informed her to call upon him once her business was concluded inside. Isilmé and Khyeena silently admired the dragon as he took to the skies with a roar then turned towards one another.

“So, what brings you to Labyrinthian Snowy?” Asked the Khajiit curiously as she causally removed a strange nordic handle and fixed it into the doors before them.

“I could ask you the same thing Khyeena.” Isilmé countered as they pulled the doors opened and wandered inside.

“That orb you tried to help us translate? It turned out to be a relic gifted by the Celestial Mage, yes, the constellation. The relic is called the Eye of Magnus” Stated the Cat as she tied her raven locks into a ponytail then motioned for them to move on. She then explained that shortly after they made the discovery over a week ago, the Thalmor agent posing as an advisor began to corrupt the Eye and with Winterhold in danger, she needed to find the staff of Magnus to try and contain the Eye’s magicka. Isilmé grimaced at the tale and told her friend her reasoning in coming to the ruins of Bromjuunar. She then added that she was more the willing to help her with mission. Halfway through what looked to be an audience chamber, there was a great rumbling erupting from beneath their feet and when they glanced directly ahead, the earth gave way to a massive skeletal creature.


	3. Morokei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isilmé meets Morokei after helping Khyeena get the Staff of Magnus. What will she learn?

“A bone dragon?!”

“Not quite.” Isilmé pointed out as she drew forth Dawnbreaker. She mentioned that she didn’t sense a dragon soul within the skeleton, “More like someone reanimated the bones of one to defend this place.”

The Khajiit sighed in annoyance as flicked her wrist, conjuring a massive fireball that collided into the old bones. Isilmé struggled not to laugh as the bones clattered and bounced around on the dirt. Khyeena huffed as she smoothed out her fur and the two delved further into the ruins. They approached a strange stone tablet within a small chamber leading downwards, deeper in to the temple. Isilmé swiped her hand over the tablet, dusting it off then tracing her finger along the stone began to translating the engraving to Khyeena. “Hail All- Brave City Bromjunaar. Forever these walls shall stand. May enemies see her majesty. May all quake to behold her.” She read then felt her hair stand on end and when she looked up, Khyeena was gone and in her place were three figures; a middle-aged man dressed in dragon cult robes and two young boys dressed in tunics and breeches. The priest had short light brown hair with streaks of gray and eyes as dark as earth. He seemed to be scolding the two children. Isilmé moved around to face the boys and cocked her head to the side. One was taller than the other. The tallest had dark blond hair cut short like the priest and his eyes were a dark emerald green.

The second had wild looking shoulder-length black hair and his eyes were just as wild. Mixtures of golds and blues with a tint of blood red along the rims. Was that-?

When she tried to reach out for them, the vision vanished and she found Khyeena waving her paw in front of her face calling her name. The Dragonborn shook her head and glanced at the Khajiit. “Did you see those three figures?” She asked only to seeing her friend quirk her brow in confusion. “Did you not see what this one saw? I saw the Arch-mage and his friends here as specters.” The two women simply concluded that whatever visions they saw were revealing to them what they needed to know. Khyeena surmised that they would probably be seeing more of these visions the further they went. After leaving the tablet, the women wandered into what was probably a place of meditation and the path was blocked by a wall of fire. Just as Isilmé and Khyeena were about to cast a frost spell, the two felt the air shift like it was sapping their magicka and a raspy voice, like one that had not been used in centuries echoed through the chamber.

“ _Wo meyz wah dii vul junaar?”_

Khyeena turned towards the Falmer for the translation. “‘Who comes to my dark kingdom?’” Isilmé translated before flicking her wrist and a small flurry of snow collided with the wall of flames and extinguished it. Khyeena then suggested the Dragonborn try talking to the voice. Isilmé quirked a brow but shrugged deciding to give it a try.

“ _Zu’u Isilmé. Zu’u los fin laat Dovahkiin._ ” Spoke the Dragonborn who then added, “ _Los hi Morokei?_ ”

No response.

“It was worth a t-.” Khyeena started to say but stiffened when the disembodied voice echoed once more startling the Khajiit.

“ _Hi los ni Aren... Nivahriin muz fen siiv nid aaz het...”_

“Aren was the Arch-Mage, wasn’t he?” The black Khajiit nodded then glanced at the Falmer for the rest of the translation. “He also said that cowards will find no mercy in this place.”

“Then we must tread lightly, yes?” They continued through the hallway and they were surprised at how deteriorated the walkways were leading down to the lower levels. Again, Isilmé saw visions of the boys following the priest to another chamber. She heard him talking to them about their studies in magic as well as their progression in melee combat. Was Morokei a teacher to these two boys? After the two dispatched most of the draugr patrolling the ruins, the two finally pushed passed the final barrier made of ice and made their way to massive chamber that reminded Isilmé as a temple of worship, possibly to the dragons during the golden age of the Dragon Cults. She then stopped when Khyeena pointed at a massive orb of magicka with someone encased inside. Isilmé then turned her friend’s attention to two ghostly figures seeming to be holding the figure within its prison.

Khyeena conjured a bow as the Dragonborn drew hers and the two took aim at the ghosts. Their arrows struck their targets but just as they turned to face the trapped figure, Khyeena thrust both her hands forward creating a protective ward around them just as the Dragon Priest pointed an ornate staff which erupted flames at the two women. Khyeena hissed when her ward shattered like glass unable to withstand the staff’s power. Isilmé fired her bow, her arrow knocking the staff from the Priest’s decayed hand. He shrieked at her angrily as he thrust a spear of ice at her and the Dragonborn pulled the Khajiit away from the projectile just in time. “Got any miracles in your pocket, Snowy. I think he drained my magicka...” Winced the Khajiit.

“Cover your ears.” Khyeena covered them as Isilmé’s eyes glowed and her dragon soul shifted in response.

“ _ **FUS....RO DAH!!!**_ ” She roared as the Unrelenting Force slammed the Priest against the wall. Again, her Thu’um returned and she Shouted fire at the undead incinerating the priest to nothing but ash. She panted softly before the two warily approached the hopefully truly dead Priest. Khyeena picked up the staff and her tail swished proudly. Apparently, the staff was exactly what she had been seeking and she quickly turned towards a flight of stairs. Isilmé was just about to try calling for Morokei when she heard Khyeena hiss in fright. The Snow Elf quickly sprinted after her friend to find a male Altmer blocking the exit out of the chamber. That is until the man arched his back in pain. The Altmer collapsed in a large heap and the newcomer sighed in relief. Khyeena’s ears twitched then she smiled brightly at who had just saved her.


End file.
